disappear. The street was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. She felt utterly alone, adrift in a life t

ue, Julian Sterling pulled his phone from his

voice on the o

," Julian

lf-storage facility. He guided the van toward a large, windowless roll-up door

ar enthusiast weep. A vintage Aston Martin, a sleek Ferrari, and

ing. He opened the driver's side door

ray t-shirt and jeans, leaving them in a heap on the concrete floor. The suited man handed him

The blue-collar security guard vanished. In his place stood the C

d, sealing him in silence. As the car pulled smoothly out of the garage and into the city traffic, headin

" The voice on the other end was his younger br

an said, hi

new Mrs. Sterling.

n that cheap café, her cheeks red with shame but her eyes defiant as she insisted o

, the words feeling like an understatemen

that's the highest praise imaginable. So, the

your end. As far as Grandmother is concerned

going to keep this up? Playing a twenty-eight-hundred

e call and looked out the window. The Aethel-Stark tower loomed ahead, a m

he Sinclair-Beaumont family was a strategic merger, not a rel

ndor. But her story had intrigued him. An orphan, adopted into a family that clearly exploited her, working tirelessly to build somethi

t kind of person she was when stripped of all pretenses. He wanted to see what

had surp

double life, was